


Sinking Inside Yourself

by Eram_Quod_Es



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Dreaming, Gen, M/M, Surrealism, also 'kairi' and 'namine' are sorta like confusing here so uh, and probably the mistreatment of goldfish but it's Sora so what did we expect, can't believe 'sora's mom' is a thing here, cross-posted on fanfiction.net as well, getting his memory fixed up and all that jazz, takes place while Sora is in THE POD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eram_Quod_Es/pseuds/Eram_Quod_Es
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This fish,” Sora says with a measure of finality in his voice comparable to someone stating that the sky is, in fact, blue. “Is obviously a Riku.”</p>
<p>“Better than you at everything?” Riku the human remarks, lounging easily on Sora’s bed, legs crossed.</p>
<p>“No!” Sora shoves the bowl at Riku’s face, ignoring a yelp as the other avoids getting water sloshed on his head. “Its face is so dumb-looking I can’t help but think of you every time I see it.”<br/>-------------------------------------------<br/>Sora feels like he should remember, but sometimes, it's better to just let things go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinking Inside Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!! It’s been years since I’ve written fanfiction. Hope I’m not too rusty. So my friend is trying to improve her writing skills. I decided to help and issued a writing challenge. We got a prompt and a time limit: The story must have a fish in it. The story must involve a cabinet in the beginning. I wrote this in 3 hours, trying to finish before midnight. Hope the quality isn’t too bad, and that you enjoy reading!
> 
> Title is taken from Hammock’s song, “Sinking Inside Yourself.” Might be good to listen to it while reading!

The fish is a spur-of-the-moment purchase by his mother, and in her words, it will ‘instill a little responsibility in you, young man! Now get ready for dinner.’  It’s a droopy-looking goldfish, with rusty orange scales and bulbous eyes that remind Sora of the thick coke-bottle glasses his old school teacher wore. Its fins are fluttery, opalescent tangerine fans, bunching up in the water and looking useless for anything beyond decoration.

Sora is, as a rule, absolutely fascinated.

“I put a little plastic palm tree in, from that one time we had those cupcakes and they had the beach stuff on them!” he explains to Riku enthusiastically, staring avidly at the goldfish as it makes slow circles in its bowl. The palm tree is a dinky little thing with a ring attached to the back so that little kids could wear it on their finger. Sora has a million like them scattered in various drawers.

Riku snorts, cradling the phone in the crook of his shoulder. Sora can hear the other boy shifting through the pages of a magazine in the background. “It’s just like you to keep that stuff lying around. Do you hide them under your bed?”

“No!” Sora yelps, turning over and away from the fish. It doesn’t count if the little memory box he keeps under his bed only has maybe five of the decorations inside.

The sound of a cabinet opening over the speaker alerts Sora to Riku’s intentions. Even now, after all that’s happened, he can still picture Riku’s room as though they had never left at all, could imagine the way Riku prowls around putting things back in their proper place. Their rooms are the exact opposite, night and day as far as cleanliness is concerned. But while Sora has the unique skill to locate anything in his garbage heap of a room, if Riku has anything out of place he’ll lose it in an instant and not know where it went.

“Are you coming to the play island?” Riku asks, closing the door again, the click audible in Sora’s ear. Sora has no doubt he’d put the magazine away and taken out clothes to wear instead. “Kai— said she’d be there soon.”

“Yeah!”

.

.

.

Sora doesn’t remember going to the island, but he’s sure he did, quick, fleeting flashes of silver hair and blue eyes saturating his mind. He’s sure. It’s what they always did, he and Riku and Kai—, before everything—everything—

…..everything?

Sora’s mother asks how his day was, and he replies with ‘fine’ and ‘we had fun,’ the words reflexive and tired in their familiarity.

“Don’t forget to feed the fish, Sora!”

“Okay, mom! I won’t, sheesh.”

.

.

.

“What should I name it?” Sora asks, holding the bowl up to his face. The goldfish gapes back at him, expression set in permanent surprise. It might be offended at Sora’s handling, but he’ll never really know.

“Mistake. Regret. I Forgot to Feed You Again. Sorry. Dead Fish Swimming,” Riku lists off dully, lounging on Sora’s bed with his legs crossed.

“Oh my god, Riku, no! You’re gonna jinx it,” Sora says, setting the bowl down, unaware of the dangerous sloshing of the water inside.

“I remember your hamsters, Sora.”

“A goldfish isn’t a hamster!”

“Might as well be. I think if you were younger, you’d have tried to hold it in your hands,” Riku replies, turning over to smirk at Sora. This might have once set Sora off enough to make him launch himself at Riku, wrestling on the bed until Riku, inevitably, pinned Sora down. He’d sit on him and listen to Sora whine for a few minutes before rolling off.

But as Sora looks at Riku and takes in the familiar smirk, he stops. And really, he’s not sure why but somehow Riku seems a little older, a little sadder.

“Did the door close?” Sora asks, tilting his head.

“What door?” Riku queries back, brow furrowing in confusion. “Did I knock your head in too hard yesterday?”

Sora doesn’t reply, back to staring sightlessly at the goldfish. He can hear Sora whisper, “Door? …door? Door?” Standing from the bed, Riku approaches and watches the way Sora mouths at the word, lips stretching as though he can’t quite make it fit, like reading something difficult that he can’t comprehend.

Riku shakes his shoulder and Sora turns, asking “What should I name it?”

.

.

.

Sora wonders when he last went to the play island with Riku and Kai—, and his mind helpfully supplies ‘yesterday!’ He can picture a play fight in their school uniforms, and his mother scolding him for ripping his dress pants at the knees.

.

.

.

“This fish,” Sora says with a measure of finality in his voice comparable to someone stating that the sky is, in fact, blue. “Is obviously a Riku.”

“Better than you at everything?” Riku the human remarks, lounging easily on Sora’s bed, legs crossed.

“No!” Sora shoves the bowl at Riku’s face, ignoring a yelp as the other avoids getting water sloshed on his head. “Its face is so dumb-looking I can’t help but think of you every time I see it.”

“Get it away, Sora! It stinks!”

“Yeah, like you!”

The goldfish, Riku, continues to gape at them, probably unamused and slightly world-weary. But no one can be sure.

.

.

.

_“How is he?”_

.

.

.

“Hey, Riku…do you remember what happened at—…at…” Sora gestures helplessly.

Riku glances at him, eyes torn away from the water-dotted pane of his window. It’s been raining all day and Sora has holed up in Riku’s room, messing up his drawers and shuffling his magazines around in search of something to do.

“I dunno.”

“…I see,” Sora says, as though that explains it. It makes sense in his head, he’s sure. Riku’s words always make sense, except. Except they didn’t.

“You know, that place. With the….waterfalls? That were upside down,” he elaborates. He’s focused intently on Riku’s floor, which he’s sprawled across. The whorl of the hardwood has caught his eye, and he absentmindedly traces its dark path. If he keeps staring, maybe it will come back, maybe it will—

“Are you dreaming, Sora? Upside-down waterfalls?” Riku laughs, turning fully from the window. “Did I knock your head in too hard yesterday?”

Yesterday, at the play island, Sora thinks. The place where he and Riku and Kai— always go. They practice with the keyblades and then race before working on the raft.

Did they go yesterday?

“It was where we saved Kai—….Kai. …—né. ….was it yesterday?”

Sora stares intently at the whorl on Riku’s floor. Yesterday had been the same as any other day.

Riku stares out the window, watching the rain buffet at the trees and beach beyond.

.

.

.

_“He’s doing fine.”_

.

.

.

Sora forgets to feed Riku and ends up dumping half the food canister into his bowl in panic.

.

.

.

“Is Kai— blonde?”

Riku stops, lowering the arm carrying his schoolbag so he can look at Sora with his typical ‘it’s a good thing I’m here to remind you to breathe and walk at the same time’ expression.

“Yeah?”

“Oh,” Sora replies. He watches Kai—‘s retreating back, plaid skirt swinging and hair getting tussled by a strong breeze. She keeps tucking it over her shoulder to prevent it from blowing over her face, though the dark red strands still scatter ceaselessly. He wonders when she grew her hair out, because it reminds him of—….of.

…..someone. He has to thank her.

“Thank you,” Sora says.

“You’re welcome?” Riku replies.

.

.

.

Riku’s looking droopier than usual. Sora stares despondently at the bowl, pressing his finger against the glass and watching as the fish comes up to the digit before slowly swimming away.

“Do you think he’s sick?” he asks Riku the human. Riku, lounging across Sora’s bed with his legs crossed, shrugs.

“Maybe it’s sad,” he says. “I know I’d be if I was trapped in a tiny place like that.”

“It’s sorta like a prison. But instead of being surrounded by water, he can’t go anywhere without it,” Sora remarks. Riku swims up to his finger again, mouth gaping open and closed.

“A prison? Surrounded by water?” Riku shifts, sitting up properly and letting his bare feet rest on the floor. The chilled wood makes his toes curl. He doesn’t remember Sora’s room being so washed out and cold. The other doesn’t seem to notice, intent on the fish bowl.

“Yeah. That’s what we were, right? That’s what he said. Or…was it just you?” Sora says. “I don’t mind it so much. But if I could trade places with Riku so he was happy, I think I would.”

“What are you talking about, Sora?” he asks, sliding off the bed and onto the floor, next to Sora. Their thighs touch, though where he expects to feel warmth there’s only a sensation of cold, like brisk mornings in winter where the wind cools their fingers just enough to make them shove them in their pockets. “Who?”

Sora ruminates on the question. Him. It had been him. Riku. But, it wasn’t Riku. Had it been Sora? Or Kai—. Or maybe no one at all.

“I’m not sure. But he reminded me of you.”

.

.

.

Sora stares at the mirror.

Same nose. Same mouth. Same eyes.

Confused, he places his fingers against the glass, watching Riku swim up and gape. He can’t remember if he’s always been blond.

.

.

.

_“He looks sort of sad.”_

.

.

.

“Let’s go to the play island today, just you and me!” Sora says. He’s dragged Riku out to the docks. Kai— lingers out of the corner of his eye, gently smiling at them. She’s clutching her sketchbook to her chest, like usual, but keeping out of the way of their roughhousing.

“Sora!” Riku complains, shoving him away. “It’s supposed to storm later. We’ll get stuck there again.”

“Sooo?” he replies, leaning forward into Riku’s personal space.

“So we went yesterday. You’re avoiding homework, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. I feel like we haven’t been together in forever. Not since before—before…,” Sora trails off. Kai— readjusts the book in her hands, swatting flyaway blonde hair from the steady wind blowing in from the sea.

“You’re seeing us right now, aren’t you?” Riku asks.

“It’s not the same!”

Riku shakes his head, and with a sigh conveying the burden it is to keep Sora in line, he hauls the other boy bodily over his shoulder, rough enough to knock Sora’s breath away. “C’mon, you slacker. We can study at my house and then maybe you won’t have to cram before the test.”

A firm fist against Riku’s back is Sora’s only reply.

.

.

.

It bothers him.

He feels like he should remember but—

Sora stares at the play island in the distance. They’d gone just yesterday, he and Riku and Kai— and yet somehow he can’t bring to mind what it is they do there. They fight. They’re always fighting. He’s been fighting for so long he can’t remember but he had always been so sure it was with Riku and Kai—

But he hadn’t.

He had fought with other people, gave his trust and allegiance and hope to strangers, and the look of betrayal in Riku’s eyes—he couldn’t understand it back then but maybe now…

Maybe now…

.

.

.

Sora gingerly places his finger against the bowl, watching as Riku slowly swims up. He’s become so droopy over the past few days. He’d called Riku in the middle of the night to ask about it, though all it had earned him was the older boy slamming the phone down on him.

He’d spent so much time worrying he hadn’t actually fallen asleep until well past sunrise, and had ended up unconscious for most of the day. His mother hadn’t bothered to wake him up, and no one had called. He spent his time staring at the fish, and wondering what he had done wrong.

“Are you sad?” he asks. Riku doesn’t respond, but in his mind, Sora can imagine him saying ‘yes.’

.

.

.

Sora falls asleep with his fingers pressed to the glass of Riku’s fishbowl.

When he wakes up, Riku is dead, bulbous eyes cloudy and body floating morbidly at the top of the bowl.

He cries. He won’t admit it if anyone asks, but he cries, and all the while he can hear Riku in his mind. The sounds jumble together but part of them say, ‘Why are you crying? It was just a fish,’ and the other part, some small, whispered words that he can’t fully understand, lament, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

Sora wonders if it shouldn’t be him apologizing.

.

.

.

Sora doesn’t go to the play island by himself too often. He’s never felt there’s been a point to it, if Riku and Kai— aren’t there. But now, launching his small rowboat from the docks, skies dark overhead, he thinks maybe he should have done this sooner.

They’d gone to the play island yesterday but it feels like forever since he’s been there. The oars are heavy in his hands as he pushes out against rough waves. He doesn’t quite care if Riku would be saying that they’ll get stuck on the island, or that Kai— will shake her head in disagreement, worried about her sketchbook and things like curfew.

Riku’s bowl sits on the other bench, steady despite the turbulence of the waves. Sora heaves on the oars again and hears thunder in the distance.

If being on the islands meant being in a prison surrounded by water, then surely the opposite was true for Riku. Even if it was too late, if he could give Riku freedom then maybe—maybe—

A wave laps over the edge of the boat, filling the bottom with cold water that seeps into his shoes.

It’s not enough to deter him, and he pushes on, riding the heavy slopes formed over the ocean. Water pours in, more than he thinks there should be, but there’s no helping it. He’s over halfway there.

The play island is in sight, misty in a spray of rain. Sora imagines Riku and Kai— waiting on the beach, yelling at him with umbrellas in hand. He always forgets his, but he doesn’t have to worry because Kai— always remembers for him.

He forgets a lot of things, but he doesn’t worry because Ri— and —né always remember for him.

He doesn’t worry because—

He wanted to be there for them.

The boat sinks.

As Sora slips under the waves, he watches Riku’s bowl. They both descend steadily, and one last time, he reaches out and presses, wishing—

.

.

.

Sora has made many promises. He fears that he won’t be able to keep them.

But he thinks, ‘As long as I can see them again, I’ll keep going.’

Even if it’s hard, or difficult, or impossible, he wants to see them and go back.

.

.

.

_“It’s okay. He’s just dreaming.”_

.

.

.

The fish is a spur-of-the-moment purchase by his mother, and in her words, it will ‘instill a little responsibility in you, young man! Now get ready for dinner.’ It’s a black goldfish, though in Sora’s opinion it’s more of a dark brown. A brush of gold on its protruding belly breaks up the darkness, and its fins fan out like streamers caught in a breeze. The eyes, he notes amusedly, remind him of the coke-bottle glasses his teacher used to wear.

He’s absolutely fascinated, and can’t help but laugh when he places a finger on the bowl. The goldfish swims up, looking like it wants to kiss his finger pad.

“I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

.

.

.

_Riku places his gloved hand gently against Sora’s glass prison. The other’s expression has smoothed out, back to being as peaceful and dopey as ever. He can’t help but think that maybe Sora got the good end of the deal, getting to sleep through all of this._

_Riku smiles before retracting his palm. “Have good dreams, Sora. We’ll wake you up soon.”_

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out a little more surreal than I first thought! It is supposed to take place during the time Sora is having his memories fixed by Naminé. I only know basic stuff about 358/2 Days, but hopefully nothing written conflicts too much with canon. I originally wanted just a cute story with Sora and Riku taking care of a fish but it spiraled out of control lol. 
> 
> Suddenly the fish was a metaphor for Riku, and then we find out in the end the fish is actually a metaphor for Sora trapped in the pod. Sora’s memory difficulty stems from having the pieces missing (especially Kairi, who still takes the form of Naminé in his mind) and also from it just being a dream. Sometimes in dreams we desperately try to reach somewhere but no matter what we do, we can’t seem to make it. I wanted the play island to be like this for Sora, the place he and his friends were together. When Sora’s mind gets snagged on something he can’t remember, the scene sort of resets itself, using key lines and positons over again. And whether Sora saw Roxas or Ventus in the mirror is up to your discretion. Both can be interesting interpretations.
> 
> If you enjoyed reading, please consider leaving a comment. Thank you!!!


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